Charlie's BDay! Woot!
by 1000th Ghost
Summary: A story I wrote for my brother on his birthday that contains, among other things, a fictional birthday party for him with all the characters I've ever written about as guests and Luke Skywalker getting trapped in Teletubby Land.


**Charlie's B-Day! Woot!**

**By: 1000th Ghost**

Long ago in a galaxy far, far away, Luke Skywalker was flying around in his TOTALLY-COOL-SPACESHIP-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!

Suddenly, he heard a strange noise. It sounded something along the lines of OOGLE SHMOOGLE PLOOGLE GOOGLE DOT COM. Thinking quickly-

* * *

Wait! The most amazingist cooliest thingy in the universe just happened! The author of this currently plot-less story has officially, for the first time ever in the history of her life, successfully won a game of That Weird Picture Frame Card Game Type Thing! YAY! And...this was _right _after winning (duh) a game of Slamwich! She is UNSTOPPABLE!

Then she got hit with writer's block.

Then she got over it when she realized...Luke Skywalker was still in danger! Oh, no! Ahem...

* * *

-he pulled out his TOTALLY-COOL-GUN-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!

Luke looked all around but to his dismay could not find the source of the mysterious noise. Then the engine exploded. Go figure.

You know, he had never been in a real airplane (aka TOTALLY-COOL-SPACESHIP-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!) before, and he's gotta tell ya, it was really great. Except that he had to sit between two large Albanian women with excruciatingly severe body odor, and the little kid in back of him kept throwing up the whole time, the flight attendant ran out of Dr. Pepper and salted peanuts, and the in-flight movie was Bio-Dome with Pauly Shore, and, oh, yeah, three of the airplane (aka TOTALLY-COOL-SPACESHIP-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!) engines burnt out, and they went into a tailspin and crashed into a hillside, and the plane (aka TOTALLY-COOL-SPACESHIP-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!) exploded in a giant fireball and everybody died!...Except for him. You know why? Cuz...

* * *

Nope, never mind, the author decided she won't tell. You'll just have to use your burned-out-by-Gameboy-tv-computer imagination to come up with something. Unless, of course, you know the song. In which case, you don't have to use your imagination. You can use someone else's. And get sued for plagiarizing. But that's just the way things go...in A...A...A...Albuquerque! And in like...other places too, I suppose. But that's besides the point.

* * *

So...back to poor, crashed Luke Skywalker. After escaping from the exploded TOTALLY-COOL-SPACESHIP-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him! (clutching a lucky, lucky autographed, glow-in-the-dark snorkel, among other things), he had the unfortunate unfortune to look up.

* * *

What he saw was so gruesome, so unbelievably horrific and ghastly, that the author isn't sure she should actually put it on paper. But...since she's not terribly concerned about the wellbeing of the reader, she decided to write it anyway.

* * *

Luke Skywalker, yes, _the _Luke Skywalker, saw...GRASS.

Yeah, okay, but that's not the horrible part. The horrible part was what was _on _the grass (although, as we all know, grass by itself can be pretty horrifying (and resemble a potato)). On the grass was a...FLOWER!

Eating the flower was a...BUNNY!

The bunny was listening to a...SPEAKER!

The speaker was pointed towards a...HOUSE!

The house was covered in...GRASS!

* * *

MWAHAHA! The author has captured the unsuspecting reader into a never-ending cycle!

Well...no, not really.

* * *

Luke, while taking all this in, rocked back and forth in the fetal position. You see, where he came from, TOTALLY-COOL-PLANET-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him!, there was no such thing as "grass". There was just dusty brown dust and decaying body parts.

"Look at yourself, man," said a voice inside his head, "cowering like a baby. You're _Luke Skywalker_! _Luke Skywalker _does _not cower _like a _baby_!"

"Well, then...what _does_ he do?" Luke asked.

"He...uses the...Force."

Suddenly, Luke shot into the air, well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the sun while his Barbie-blond hair blew in the conveniently placed wind.

"I have...RECOVERED!" he boomed in a voice that would belong to a man acquiring a well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the sun while his Barbie-blond hair blew in the conveniently placed wind.

Then, suddenly, a man-eating Gameboy ate Luke Skywalker, and he was trapped with Mario.

* * *

(ahem) Yes. Or, so says Bobby anyway. His small contribution to this story (if you can call it that).

* * *

Then Luke killed Mario and escaped. Mwa. Ha. Hahaha. Ha. Yeah.

Kay, so then he was like "I have...RECOVERED!" yada, yada, whatever. Y nada más.

Having once again found his masculine strength, Luke set out for the foreboding, grass-covered house. On his way there he encountered more flowers, more bunnies, more speakers, and the occasional windmill.

Before long, Luke had arrived at the door. The only trouble was he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to open it. It didn't have anything that even vaguely resembled a handle, key hole, lock, doorbell, or other commonly found door-type-things. So, thinking quickly, he did what any manly man would do. He pulled out his TOTALLY-COOL-GUN-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him! and proceeded to shoot himself in the head. Why? I dunno. Why not?

* * *

So, faithful reader, are you confused? Are you asking yourself questions such as: Where is he? (um...it's supposed to be obvious by this point, retards), Why did he kill himself? (cuz he _felt _like it. _gosh_.), or What the heck is supposed to happen now that there aren't any characters? (hehe...oopsie...I sorta forgot that he was the only one)? Well, if you are asking yourself these (or other, or slightly-differently-formed) questions, then congratulations! You're in the same boat I'm in! That can't be good.

* * *

Meanwhile, from inside the house, one of the four owners (look! new characters!) was startled from her sleep as the sound of the TOTALLY-COOL-GUN-TYPE-THING! Hooray for him! broke through the silence. Curious, but for some bizarre reason not a bit afraid (she and her brethren seemed to lack any sort of emotion other than painfully cheerful), the owner tiptoed to the door (which automatically opened...haha...poor, pathetic Luke...). She was shocked by what she saw (duh).

There, on her doorstep, laid the bloodied carcass of a strange man with a well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the sun while his Barbie-blond hair blew in the conveniently placed wind (duh).

"Uh oh!" she exclaimed.

"Dead person," a mysterious, disembodied voice explained.

"Dead...pewthon..." the owner repeated.

"Po dragged the dead person into the house," the voice continued.

"Into houthe!" Po babbled, unwilling (or perhaps unable) to form any rational thoughts. She somehow managed to grasp Luke's feet in her chubby, fingerless hands and move him into the main portion of the house.

"Po put the dead person on the table."

"On table!" the red creature chirped, staring intently at nothing.

Once this task had been completed, Po looked around uncertainly. "Noo-Noo tidy up?" she questioned.

"No, no, of course not!" the disembodied voice answered. The panic in its voice showed just how fearful it was that this technological baby was actually attempting to think for itself. "Um...Noo-Noo does _not _tidy up! Trails of blood on floors make lovely decorations!"

"Decow...a...dec..." Po stopped, the complexity of the word baffling her.

"Now then," the voice continued, satisfied by the completely dazed look on Po's face, "Po gets a knife."

"Knife!" Po exclaimed, holding up a plastic knife commonly found in children's kitchen sets.

"No, no, no! Po gets a _sharp _knife."

"Shawp knife!" Po looked around but to her dismay could not find anything resembling a sharp knife. "Shawp knife?" she asked the mysterious voice.

"Yes, Po, sharp knife. _Big_, sharp knife. Big, _bloody_, sharp knife."

Po's small brain capacity was fried. Too many words.

"Oh, for heaven sakes. Must I do everything for you?"

Po stared.

"Fine! Be that way! Here's your stupid knife!" The disembodied voice did whatever it is he does and, lo and behold, a knife appeared. Above Po's head. It fell. Mwahaha.

"Oops," the voice said. "Oh, well. That's just the way things go...in A...A...A...Albu...yeah."

Meanwhile, over the hills and far away, Teletubbies come to ENGAGE IN COMBAT BATTLE!

"Lala uthe HEAD EXPLODE!"

"Tinky Winky uthe EYE GOWGE!"

* * *

The author then paused to remind the readers (aka Charlie) about the lovely time when they actually used to watch this show (shudder). During such time, the author's favorite character was Lala and her brother's (aka Charlie's) favorite was Tinky Winky. So, naturally, they must fight to the death. Oh, goody.

* * *

"Lala uthe _WINGARDIUM LEVIOTHA_!"

Tinky Winky, from his perch high in the air shouted, "Tinky Winky uthe...YOUW MOM!"

"Thtupid Tinky Winky," Lala laughed, "we don't _have _a mom!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, then Tinky Winky uthe...THOMETHING BAD!"

Lala died.

"Mwahahahaha!" Tinky Winky laughed, his well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the sun while his Barbie-blond hair blew in the conveniently placed wind.

* * *

Wow. That's a disturbing picture.

* * *

A few hillsides from there, Dipsy was tipsy.

"Dipthy dwunk!" he exclaimed, staggering toward the house. "Dipthy have hangovew!"

Upon entering the house, Dipsy was met with the horrifying sight of the decaying Luke Skywalker and the brutally stabbed Po.

"Dipthy dithguthted!"

Just then, Tinky Winky walked in. Dipsy took one look at his well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the sun while his Barbie-blond hair blew in the conveniently placed wind and promptly blew up.

Tinky Winky ate them all. With Tubby Custard. And Tubby Toast. Yum yum.

Noo-Noo tied up.

The mysterious, disembodied voice looked down with pride. "I have taught you well, Winky of the Tinky," he proclaimed. "I am officially the _best _disembodied voice _ever_."

"Oh, you _are_, are you now?" said the disembodied voice from Boobah, in his rich, British accent. "Well, for your information, I trained Little Dog Fido and Brother to destroy Mrs. Lady and Grandpapa!"

"That's nothing! I convinced Stinky to 'plant them, they will grow', therefore making a _totally _boring and unromantic episode of Hey Arnold!! Mwahaha!" said the quote unquote "mysterious, disembodied voice" from "Stinky's Pumpkin".

"I've got you all beat," said a fourth voice.

"Says who?" asked the voice from Boobah.

"Says the author."

"Oh, yeah? And just why would she pick you?"

"Cuz he's Master George Gracey Jr. aka the Ghost Host from The Haunted Mansion!" 1000th Ghost exclaimed. "Ahhh! I'm actually TALKING to him in a FICTIONAL story! This is so COOOOOLLLL!"

"(coughobsessedfreakcough)," coughed the quote unquote "mysterious, disembodied voice" from "Stinky's Pumpkin".

"I heard that..." 1000th Ghost said, glaring into the nothingness that was the voice. "And you know what? I'm also an obsessed freak about Hey Arnold!."

"Aren't you special," the quote unquote "mysterious, disembodied voice" from "Stinky's Pumpkin" said, clearly not caring.

"And..." 1000th Ghost continued, "if I remember correctly, _you _made an episode unromantic."

"Oh, yeah? What if I did? What are _you _gonna do about it?"

"Oh, you'll see," 1000th Ghost said, smiling evilly. "Oh, Baby Sun!"

Everyone looked up and saw none other than Baby Sun, supreme ruler of Teletubby Land.

"Baby Sun," growled the disembodied voice of Teletubby Land, "my arch nemesis. _I _should have been supreme ruler, not some stupid infant head in a ball of hot gas! It should have been me! ME!"

Baby Sun ate him.

"Awe, what a cute little henchman!" 1000th Ghost cooed. "Now, go ahead and have the others, but do NOT, I repeat, do NOT eat Master Gracey!"

Baby Sun opened up its massive jowls, razor sharp teeth glistening with blood, and devoured the disembodied voice of Boobah and the quote unquote "mysterious, disembodied voice" from "Stinky's Pumpkin".

"Giggle babble giggle!" it said, which translated to, "Gosh, I sure do love to eat disembodied voices. And 1000th Ghost is the coolest person ever. Oh. Burnownage."

"Thank you, Baby Sun," 1000th Ghost said, "You can go now."

"The sun is setting in the sky," said the disembodied voice of Teletubby Land from inside Baby Sun, "Teletubbies, say goodbye!"

Tinky Winky managed to mutter "Bye-bye" while dragging along the bloodied and partially digested carcasses of Dipsy, Lala, and Po.

"What the heck?" 1000th Ghost exclaimed. "Dude, what's with the dead technological babies? I go stalk Master Gracey for a few pages, and _this _is what I find when I come back?"

Tinky Winky stared at her. Too many words. No comprende.

1000th Ghost sighed and looked around. Then she realized with a start that she was in the middle of freakin' Teletubby Land.

"I'm in the middle of freakin' Teletubby Land! Dude, whatever happened to Charlie's birthday and all that jazz? That's what this story was _supposed _to be about."

"Uh oh!" agreed Tinky Winky.

"Great idea, fictional character!" exclaimed 1000th Ghost. "I'll throw Charlie a party in the middle of Teletubby Land! Why? Cuz I CAN!"

She snapped her fingers, and every character she had ever written about in the history of forever appeared. Lila, Raoul, Madame Leota, and several others were missing their heads, pancreases, and other vital body parts. But that's besides the point.

She snapped her fingers again, and balloons, streamers, piñatas, an enormous cake, and about eighty trillion gallons of Dairy Queen appeared.

She snapped her fingers a final time, and Charlie appeared. Hahaha.

"Hiya, Charlie!" 1000th Ghost squealed, "You made it to your fictional party! YAY!"

Charlie looked around at the various characters, party decorations, and gore. Lots of gore.

"Is _this _what goes on in your head?" he wondered out loud.

"Sometimes...but mostly this." 1000th Ghost snapped her fingers, and Arnold and Helga, Erik and Christine, George and Emily, and several other couples appeared in front of them.

"Don't you _ever _get tired of watching us make out?" they shouted in unison.

"Uh...is that a rhetorical question?" 1000th Ghost asked. "Anywayz, Happy B-Day Charlie! Woot!"

"Uh...huh..." he said, looking around in amazement/horror.

"So...do you feel any different now that you're thirteen?"

"I'm twelve," Charlie replied.

"Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting. Hahahahaha! You are still muy pequeño y nada más!"

"No, soy muy grande y nada más porque yo tengo el well-oiled-steroid-muscular chest gleaming in the-"

He was cut off as 1000th Ghost slapped him.

"Dude, Tinky Winky was disturbing enough. I don't think I could handle you too."

"Whatever. Um...can you send me home yet? I've gotta watch the computer for another three years incase anything decides to-"

"Oh, my gosh!" 1000th Ghost screamed. "We're about to eat Dairy Queen! What the heck am I still writing for?"  
"Uh...cuz your story's not done?"

"Oh, for heaven sakes! 'Happy Birthday to you, you're a hundred and two...blah, blah, blah...and many more.' Yeah, okay, can it end now?"

"No!" Charlie cried. "First you have to give me a present!"

1000th Ghost shoved a bucket of Fresh Chicken Livers in his face.

"Happy B-Day y nada más! Harrumph!"

**THE END**


End file.
